Saint Gerard's Companion
by Misirou
Summary: His God was compassionate... His God was gracious... His God would smite this heathen woman that was intent on convincing him otherwise. But for now he had to keep her alive... Silas/OC
1. Chapter 1: Chases and the Unreasonable

** Chapter 1**

** Of Chases and the Unreasonably Reasonless**

From the view of any soul standing outside of the Louvre's securely guarded walls, it would seem as if nothing was out of place. That particular night would seem strangely calm; not even the ominous humming of nearby car engines would seem to disturb the silence. Any passerby would take no notice to how enveloping the darkness was.

However, on that particular night there was nobody present. Nobody would notice the obvious harbinger in the change of atmosphere, and not a single beating heart was in the Louvre's periphery that could have recalled the frantic chase that began there.

No one witnessed the cloaked man that was sprinting away from his armed female pursuer.

No one knew what he had done within the Louvre, and no one knew the girl.

The man ran, and she followed him, with her breath ragged and her heart beating at an incredibly fast pace. She had been made witness to a murder, and was now intent on apprehending the one responsible. As she quickened her pace, her hand slipped down to her gun, and with shaky fingers she drew it.

Still running, and with her arms now raised, she aimed at the murderer's broad shoulders. She intended to wound, not to kill. However, as her finger lightly touched the trigger, preparing to shoot, the man lurched around what seemed to be an invisible corner.

Only for a moment did her thoughts waver, and before being able to command her body to stop, she had also turned the corner and rammed headlong into the murderer's grasp.

As she was flung around and her wrist was twisted to her back by the man, she managed a last defensive action. All her anger and fear was converted into energy, and she struck her attacker's knee with such brute force that he seemed to partially collapse. Not a moment later, however, he regained control and had an even stronger hold on her than before. The man wrenched the gun out of her grasp, immediately placing the mouth at her temples.

"It would be wise to purge your memory of what you witnessed tonight."

His words were breathy, and even in whispers some sort of accent was recognizably thick. He was also wheezing quote noticeably. His face was at such a close proximity to hers that she could feel the heat radiating from him, and an unpleasant and unrecognizable smell entered her nose. She couldn't avert her gaze far enough to see his face, but out of the corner of her eye his skin looked illuminated.

The gun was cocked, and more pressure was put on her head.

"I insist that you comply. There is no need for an unnecessary death tonight."

For a fraction of a second, her breathing stopped, and she froze.

However, no eloquently weaved words would be able to divert her strong belief in justice. Myriad thoughts were telling her to flee. But her mind stayed focused on her deepest belief. This man was dangerous, and he needed to be locked up.

Of all the intelligent things that this girl could have done – of all the things that were just slightly reasonable - this girl chose to shut down all worthwhile thoughts, and started to depend on her hormones and physical strength. She struggled and writhed.

She burned up every remaining amount of energy in her body attempting desperately to harm the man. She kicked and twisted around, trying to get out of the arm-lock that he had her in. She punched, clawed, and bit anything and everything that seemed to be attached to him, yet she didn't phase him in the slightest. He merely growled angrily and roughly jerked her arm in an unpleasant direction.

The sudden pain that ran through her wrist and shoulder cleared her head, and she stopped struggling, letting out a soundless cry. Her body immediately tensed up, trying not to move in fear of hurting her broken arm.

Cruelly, her arm was twisted even further. Her knees became weak, and her vision blurred.

Finally, the woman screamed as the man wrenched her arm around one more time, and threw her to the ground.

Trying to ignore the pain, and knowing how dangerous is would be not to move, she rolled onto her back and glimpsed at her attacker's face. In an instant, his features were embedded into her memory.

He directed the gun at her chest.

As she stared at the opening of the gun, a crooked smile flickered across her face, disappearing as quickly as it had appeared. The single emotion she felt was fury.

So this was how she was going to die? In _this _shit hole? In _this_ situation? Without any recognition?

And suddenly... so suddenly... she felt tired. So comfortingly tired. Her thoughts were weakened, and her body was exhausted. The image of her impending death drifted away, and her muscles stopped. Even the pain seemed to fade a little.

She rested her head on the freezing concrete and slept.

* * *

It was strange seeing the disheveled young woman sleeping so peacefully.

Although he had seen this reaction from so many of his victims, it was always fascinating when they did 'fall asleep'. He knew it was more of a graceful collapse due to pain and lack of energy. But it rendered them _so _vulnerable.

The man allowed himself to relax his muscles and think through his next steps a bit more thoroughly. He lowered the gun and hid it inside his He would need to get rid of anything that would identify the woman's corpse once he had killed her. Fingerprints and DNA he wasn't worried about, since he knew that the _Police Judiciaire_ didn't have a profile on him. That, and it didn't even know he existed.

He removed his hood with slender fingers, and proceeded to search the woman's clothes. His movements were quick and a bit rough. He wasn't worried about her regaining conscious, but still he felt that respect was needed. He pointedly avoided feeling anywhere inappropriate. Temptation would not sway him.

He found a wallet, chap-stick, and a tattered photograph of the woman and a male companion. Discarding the latter two on the ground, he opened the wallet.

The _Police Judiciaire _insignia sewn to the inside of the wallet turned the whole situation on its side. It made him pause, and he gazed over at the still unconscious woman.

'_This woman could either be a dangerous and useful asset to the Teacher...'_ the man thought, '_or harmless and useless dead.'_

How would he make this decision without the aid of the Teacher? Would he be punished for eliminating the perfect hostage, or punished for not wiping her out when he had the chance? Then again, he thought, if the Teacher never found out about the girl, what could he get mad about.

But the Lord would see, he realized. The Lord would always see. And the Teacher, being such a man of God, would without a doubt find out sooner or later.

Going through the rest of her wallet, he discovered a drivers license. Although smiling was prohibited on any sort of personal identification card, the corner of her mouth was slightly slanted upward in a strange smirk. She had a mess of mousy brown hair, and according to information on the card, her eyes were green.

He read her name.

The look he'd previously had in his eyes softened. God was clearly on his side, and this was meant to be a sign. He was certain now of what needed to be done.

Replacing the wallet's contents and stashing it away in his pocket, he knelt down beside the sleeping female figure. Somewhat gentler than he had been before, he placed his arm behind her head and lifted her limp body.

Currently, this woman was more useful alive.

Killing her off would be easy if necessary.

* * *

First off, thank you for reading all the way to the end! And if you plan on reviewing, please give me a number (on a scale of 1-10) of how much of a Mary-Sue you think my female character is so far. 1 being 'Not at all', 10 being 'Pure-blooded Mary Sue'.

Yes, a plot will be developing. There will be more than just romance and drama throughout the story.

What happened to my female character (name still to be revealed) _can_ happen. Think about the situation: She's wounded, has used up all her energy, and has billions of hormones working at the same time to create fear. Of course a collapse is possible.

I realize that it may have been a slow and a bit confusing beginning. And if you didn't read everything, you might have been a bit lost. My apologies!

All hail Dan Brown! :D

~Misirou~


	2. Chapter 2: Between Reality and its Dream

**Chapter 2**

**Between Reality and Its Dream**

_She was wrapped in nothing but sheets, lying on something soft. Next to her lay the man of her dreams... Her lover... His hand was reaching out in an attempt to caress her. His dark hair framed his perfect features, and his eyes shone. Oh, those cruel but beautiful eyes..._

_She tried to reach out to his hand, but the whole image seemed to distort at the edges. His enchanting eyes were wiped away, along with his cold smile._

_She then found herself running through a winter forest. She could feel the snow crunch under her bare feet, but the cold didn't touch her. She saw and felt the branches whip past her face, but they left no scratches._

_The high-pitched wail of an infant pierced the silence, and an icy pain ran through her heart. Tears started to brim in her eyes. _

_She continued running, now going away from the sounds of the baby crying. For some reason it scared her to death. And her lover! Where was he now? Why had he left her?! What had she done so wrong!?!_

_She suddenly stopped, shut her eyes, and screamed. What had she done wrong!?! She pulled at her hair. It wasn't her fault! That damned child... that damned child..._

_And then suddenly her lover did appear. And he was beautiful as always, his naked body an image of perfection. But he didn't seem pleased. No, quite the contrary... He had that horrid look upon his face... _

_She gazed into his hating eyes as he raised his hand and beat her. He seized her and did it once more. Oh, how she tried to escape, but each time his hand would find its mark upon her face. And each time she would curse the baby. And each time, the baby would cry louder. And now, how she wanted to hurt it. She wanted to hurt the baby so badly..._

_But there was no baby. Only her lover and his fist, and only his stare of disgust. Only his hateful words that she didn't listen to. She didn't want this... She wanted none of it..._

"_No..." she slurred. He still struck her, but a bit softer than before._

"_NO!" She managed to scream, wrenching out of his grasp and shielding herself with her arms. "STOP! NO!"_

_All was silent._

_The baby had stopped._

_He had stopped._

_But then... _

"_Rebecca..."_

_She heard him calling her name softly._

"_Rebecca..."_

_He had stopped. He had forgiven her._

"_Rebecca."_

_She sighed in relief. Everything was going to be fine._

"Rebecca."

Her eyes opened slowly, and she found herself staring at someone resembling an angel. She knew it was him. And he was glowing so beautifully. His eyes weren't cold and blue anymore. No... In fact, they were a beautiful shade of red... Quite inviting and warm...

She smiled and laughed softly. He stared back at her, expressionless. But she knew what she had to do...

She leaned and kissed him. It had been such a long time...

"I love you..." she murmured quietly, and then her mind drifted once more into the vast endlessness of sleep.

* * *

As Silas locked the door, a blood-curling scream made him stop. His blood started to boil. The wench had awoken and probably realized what kind of a situation she was in.

He flung open the door and hurled into the room in which he was harboring the woman. He was furious beyond understanding, and completely intent on beating her until she knew her place. She would learn to be subservient, just like he was to God!

As he strode over to where she was lying on his bed, he realized that she was still sleeping, albeit unpleasantly.

He could see that something was bothering her. She couldn't possibly be faking it. Her eyes were moving rapidly under her lids, and her breathing was uneven. Her body constantly jerked in random directions.

Silas cringed as she screamed once more and started clawing at herself.

He needed to shut her up before anyone heard her.

Doing the only thing _he_ knew that quieted people down, he leaned over her and slapped her in the face with all his strength. For a moment her body stopped, but then she continued writhing, and was now clawing at his arms and hands.

Silas' anger grew, and this time he was unable to contain himself. He grabbed the woman's flailing arms and struck her in the face, this time his hand in a fist. Before checking if the woman had calmed or not, he hit her again, and then again.

As he raised his hand to hit her once more, the pathetic woman finally screamed in protest, and lifted her arms to protect herself.

"_STOP! NO!_"

He thought that she had finally awoken, but the signs of her nightmares carried on, and now tears were sliding down her face and coming to rest at her neck.

And as he stood there, his fist still clenched and slightly raised, he knew that his anger had made him commit a sin. And as his eyes fell upon the young woman's disgusting form, he felt the slightest bit of pity. Just barely enough to compel him to attempt to wake her in a softer manner.

Awkwardly, and intentionally keeping far away from the girl, Silas knelt down beside the bed. His face was set into a grim expression as he tried to recall the name he had read on her license.

"Rebecca..."

The word felt strange rolling off his tongue, and his voice cracked. When was the last time he'd spoken a name other than the Lord's and that of his fatherly bishop?

The woman's eyes were still moving rapidly and her breathing remained fast. However, it was noticeable that her jerking had ceased.

Once more he said her name, this time a bit more confidently.

"Rebecca..."

It seemed as if she had heard, for she slowly rolled over to face him. She clutched at her pillow, and pressed her tear-stained face against it. Her eyes remained closed tight.

Silas sneered slightly in abhorrence, and all pity vanished. He would have to discard of the pillow as soon as his schedule would allow him to.

This time more forcefully and with a touch of annoyance, Silas repeated the name.

"Rebecca."

He leaned in to see if she had finally roused, and repeated her name as loud as he dared without making her convulse again.

"_Rebecca._"

She opened her eyes, and stared at him with a far-off gaze. A impromptu feeling of nausea overcame Silas. He wasn't used to being this close to another human being, and it made him feel drenched in an emotion that closely resembled contempt.

He opened his mouth to speak. Almost instantly the young woman's mouth pressed against his, and a cold chill ran through his body. As realization sank in, Silas' heart hammered, and he jerked away, wiping his mouth vigorously.

The filthy whore smiled and whispered something.

"I love you..."

Silas didn't even bother to hide his disgust as he leaped up and stormed out of the room, his fist clenched so tight that his palm was already bleeding. His stomach churned and he gagged a few times as he entered another dark and unfurnished room. On one of the walls hung a cross, directly next to a fireplace. And the Discipline was lying on the stool in front of it, immediately prepared for his use.

He fell to his knees facing the cross.

Women... Such whorish, infernal creatures. They would lead him to his death if he gave in to them. They were useless, good for only certain male desires...

Impure images flashed through Silas' mind, and he felt the sinful sensation of lust growing in his loins.

Silas emanated a cry of anger, furious at how women could affect him in such an empowering way.

His thoughts started to be clouded by his sexual hunger. He lunged for his Discipline.

His mission would have to wait.

Repenting could not.

* * *

1) First of all, thank you to marblememo for my _first_ review on this story. Thanks to GivenCircumstances as well for more motivating words! Also, thanks to 13, who has been urging me for quite some time to actually _continue_ one of my stories. [ADVERTISING: She's currently working on a 'Legion' FanFic, so yeah... ;) ;) ;) ]

2) Same thing as last time: On a scale of 1 to 10 (1 being least, 10 being most, if that hasn't been clarified for you yet) how much of a Mary Sue is my character, _so far? _(A character has to have a bit of drama in their lives, otherwise there's no way a plot could form!)

3) I hope that the second chapter was a bit more legible (in word organization and sentence structure). Constructive criticism is adored! :)

4) I'm working diligently on the 3rd chapter, but I plan on digressing sometime in April! :D

5) ALL HAIL PAUL BETTANY!!! 3 :D

~Misirou~


	3. Chapter 3: In Dealing With Reality

**Chapter 3**

**In Dealing With Reality**

Half of Rebecca's face was pressed against something soft that smelled of cigarette smoke, sweat, and the smallest hint of soap. She inhaled the peculiar scent, and a strange series of images entered her mind. Before being able to fully grasp them, they had already disappeared, leaving her wide awake in an oppressing silence.

Rebecca's eyes opened, and she found herself staring into a vast darkness. For a split second she didn't react, but then flung herself into an upright position as she realized where she was. Or more like where she wasn't.

A harrowing pain in her wrist confirmed her fears.

She sat in the foreign bed, gripping her arm tightly and going through her information quickly. Yes, she wasn't in her condo; yes, the previous night had not been a dream; yes, she was weaponless, and yes, she was disoriented as she had never been before.

Rebecca's first thought was to find an exit, but the craving for light smothered

all her instincts. She struggled out from between the covers, and felt the carpeted floor beneath her feet. Panicky, but trying to remain in control of her overreacting brain, she slowly paced her way forward. If she found a wall, she would find a window. And most definitely a door.

Keeping her left arm stretched out in front of her, and her right wrist close to her chest, it only took her about ten timid steps until her fingers brushed against a rough surface. Assuring that there was nothing in her way, she pressed herself firmly against the wall.

Deciding that left was a favorable direction, Rebecca began to walk along it, feeling for a change in texture with her hand. Her heart had calmed desirably, yet her eyes still remained unfocused.

Her hand finally gripped a rough material, and she immediately ripped it aside. A dim light flooded the room, and her eyes began to hurt mildly. Childishly angry at the curtain for blocking her light, yet relieved that she could see once more, Rebecca swiveled around to look at the now slightly illuminated room.

The room was miniscule, and its furnishing was spartan. Its colors were multiple shades of gray and brown, but Rebecca's eyes saw only the door on the other side of the bed. She hurried over to it, still keeping her continuously pained wrist at her side.

Rebecca had no doubt that the door was locked, yet still she was compelled to try. Pushing on the handle multiple times, and throwing herself against the door stupidly, she finally gave up on force and began to analyze her surroundings.

The door looked as if it was crafted out of wood, in a typical ornate European fashion. Naturally, there was no glass. However... provided that the door was still in its original state, and had not been modernized...

'_Those old locks could easily be picked.' _thought Rebecca._ 'If, of course, I had a pick...'_

Finding hope in the fact that she could finally take a bit of control in her situation, she began scouring the room for any wire-like objects, or anything that resembled a key. Makeshift weapons and tools had always been her specialty; it had been one of her most useful skill working in the police force.

_Had been?_ She felt startled at her immediate negative thinking. Of course she would return to work and use that skill once more. Naturally she would see all her colleagues again. Even her slightly obnoxious partner, Levi, would be glad to see her.

Thoughts of the life she wished to return to brought Rebecca back to the task at hand, and she continued her search with an agitation she hadn't had before. She hurriedly opened the drawers of a dull-looking dresser, hoping for a coat hanger of some sort. Anything that resembled or contained a wire...

And as she stared into the very back of the drawer, open mouthed, Rebecca realized that her escape was tightly bound around her torso. Even in this situation, she felt the urge to laugh...

Of course... her _under-wire..._

With a slight trepidation, Rebecca removed her top, and even though there was no chance of a witness, she felt herself blush, and hurriedly took the wires from her bra. Even with only one hand she was quick. Rebecca couldn't stand to see herself bare, let alone allow someone else to see. In a matter of seconds she was wearing her shirt once more, and holding the purposeless bra in her hand, before throwing it aside.

She had wriggled the wire around in the key hole for only a minute, when the lock opened, and a feeling of alleviation overcame her. Knowing that she was not yet completely out of dangerous waters, Rebecca grasped the door handle, and pushed. The door creaked open.

She was filled with ecstasy at her accomplishment, but a renewed apprehension gripped her; she was far from safety. Turning back into the room, she forced an empty drawer out of the dresser, and hoisted it with one hand in front of herself. Feeling that it would provide enough protection for her to escape, Rebecca prodded the bedroom door with her foot, opening it just wide enough for her to slip through.

She seemed to be in what was intended to be a living room. A small cable TV sat upon a wooden stepping stool in the opposite corner, and a mediocre dining table had been placed in the room's approximate center accompanied by a few chairs. There were three closed doors – one to her immediate left, and the other two down a short hallway. Another wide opening gave Rebecca a full view to a kitchen that could have been the size of a public bathroom.

Placing down her weapon, she quickly checked all doors which were, as she had expected, locked. For some odd reason, the locks one those three doors had been modernized. Hence, Rebecca's struggles at opening them were futile. The kitchen was also void of any human presence, although she did, to her disgust, scare a mouse out of its hiding place between two dusty bowls. The kitchen window had been covered with something opaque black that she thought to be tar, and when looking through the only two windows that weren't blocked, Rebecca came face-to-face with a brick wall. A glimpse downwards revealed to her just how high she was, and she hastily took a few backward steps.

Turning around pointlessly a few times, Rebecca ultimately staggered to one of the chairs and sat herself down hesitantly. She absentmindedly began caressing her wrist with her thumb, and once more endeavored to organize her thoughts. Before anything else, she needed to contact someone... _anyone._ All her belongings had been taken from her, except for the clothes she had worn yesterday. She wasn't even wearing her fake Rolex, which could have at least given her a sense of time. How long would it take the workers at the Louvre to realize that she had gone missing from her post? How long had it been since she had passed out? How long had she been unconscious?

Her stomach complained in a low growl, and the sandwich she had had for dinner seemed eons ago.

'_Far too long, obviously.'_

Rebecca felt at liberty to rummage through the cupboards to find something edible, but even that rewarded her with nothing more than with a tiny packet of baking powder, a few slices of grain bread, and the tap water from the sink, which she wasn't about to risk drinking.

The cupboards lacked food, but paradoxically contained dishes. and the drawers lacked silverware. Not even plastic sporks were anywhere to be found.

In her frustration, she slammed the cupboard doors shut. Now her agonizing stomach was pissing her off and fogging up her mind. But as she veered around, something protruding from the kitchen wall made her heart swell.

'_A phone! A fucking phone!'_

In all her insanity, it hadn't even occurred to Rebecca that there could have been a _phone_ somewhere in her confinement! And even now, as she lifted the receiver from its place, she doubted that the phone was even functioning. Only when she had placed it to her ear, and heard the old fashioned monotonous droning, did she let herself be buoyant once more.

She began dialing the first number that came to mind. Calling her parents was _not _an option she was willing to cope with.

'_Anyways,'_ she thought, pressing the receiver rigidly to her ear, excited and nervous at the same time, '_I need someone who actually knows what to do...'_

"_Bonjour, vous parlez à Levi Pelletier. How may I help you?"_

"Levi!" she gasped, exhilarated that he had picked up. "Levi, I need your help quickly. I'm not going to go into detail – "

"_Rebecca? Where are you calling from? You're – " _

His familiar voice with a French accent brought her a small portion of comfort in her dire situation. But knowing that he could ramble on for ages, she interrupted him.

"No, Levi just listen." she continued breathlessly, shifting around nervously, with her heart going insane. "Someone was murdered in the Louvre last night. I saw it happen, I followed the guy, and he overpowered me, and now I have no clue where I am. It's some apartment, but I can't tell where I am – the windows are all blocked in some way."

An intense silence came over the line. It seemed forever until he answered.

"_Really... really."_ she heard Levi murmur. Then he laughed. _"Really?"_

"I'm not fucking around!" she snapped, her fear promptly replaced by fury. "Take something seriously for once, will you? _You know me! __Why the fuck would I lie to you?_"

No response emanated from the phone, but Rebecca knew, from the barely audible static, that Levi was still there.

"_Je suis désolé. I'__m so sorry."_ was the mumbled reply.

"Oh. You're sorry? Well, I guess that changes _everything!_" she whispered through the phone angrily, every word unmistakably dripping with sarcasm. "You know, you've really got to fix your communication skills! _This isn't some sort of game!_"

"_Okay, Rebecca! OKAY! Just give me some help!" _

"Give _you_ some _help_?" came her stupid response.

"_YES, YOU BIPOLAR BITCH! GIVE ME SOME CLUES AS TO WHERE YOU ARE!"_

"Can't you just trace the _phone_! I told you, the windows are – "

Her words fell short when she distinctly heard the sound of a key being inserted into a lock. Her hands unwillingly started to shake.

"Someone's here." she whispered as one last sign of life, before silently placing the phone back into its place.

** ~o~o~o~o~o~**

Silas' hands shook with fury as he slammed the key into the door, and turned it viciously.

The fallacious information given to him by Sauniere had ultimately lead to the wrong location.

'_And...'_

He opened the door with an unnecessary force.

_'I have failed the Teacher.'_

But as he locked his apartment from the inside and replaced the key in his pocket, it wasn't just the fact that he had disappointed the Teacher that bothered him. What gnawed at his nearly infallible conscience was that, in doing so, he had also forsaken Bishop Aringarosa.

Giving the door one last hard stare, he turned around and headed for the kitchen. His stomach had been deprived of any nourishment for the last two days, and was growling loudly.

** ~o~o~o~o~o~**

Rebecca felt the circulation in her legs being cut off as she crouched on the kitchen counter immediately adjacent to the door. Her sweaty hand gripped a porcelain bowl, holding it up just over her head with one arm.

As soon as she heard the entrance door close, Rebecca held her breath and tensed her arm in preparation.

An eternity passed before finally...

A head of white hair appeared before her, and she slammed the bowl down upon it, ignoring the hurtful cry that the man emanated as he fell to the floor. Rebecca leaped down, and launched herself out of the kitchen towards her door to freedom.

Her hand came down upon the handle with full force and she began tearing at the door. She shook it fervently, and when she realized that it was locked she proceeded to cry out and pound at it with her feet.

She felt it begin to give away, and kicked with more enmity.

_'A few more kicks! A FEW MORE, A FEW MORE!' _she screamed inside her head, before switching from her feet to using her shoulder.

Rebecca threw her whole entire weight at the unfaltering door, yet it still didn't give way.

She staggered back, knowing she'd failed. Her body twisted around and she backed against the door, seeing her captor tottering out of the kitchen supporting himself against the wall.

It was clear that Rebecca had done a considerable amount of damage, causing large amounts of blood to trickle down his forehead. The albino man's face was contorted into an expression of a vehement loathing, and as he attempted to stand up strait, his hand slipped into his peculiar robes.

Seeing him for the first time in such definition, it became clear to Rebecca just how much of a threat this man posed. And as he drew out a small caliber pistol and pointed it at her face she knew that her situation had just turned dire.

"_You..._"

His words were filled with an intense animosity, and he gnashed his teeth together, taking some surprisingly powerful steps forward.

"_You..."_

His anger, it seemed, couldn't be matched with words.

Rebecca knew that he had the upper hand, but she couldn't let him think that for even one second.

"It's over." she spat, sounding much more confident than she felt. "I've contacted the police and they know where I am. It's _over._"

The man stared at her for a few seconds, and then let out a strangled laugh.

"You must assume - " he wheezed, "that I'm stupid?"

Rebecca opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off.

"I am deeply offended..."

He breathed heavily, and stood upright, removing his hands from the wall. The gun was aimed directly at Rebecca's forehead.

"...that such a filthy whore would think herself better than I."

The shot rang out loudly.

** ~o~o~o~o~o~**

Rebecca stared at the hole that the bullet had ripped through the door. The hole intended for her face.

When she turned her head and her eyes met his own, she knew that he was fucking with her mind. He was one of _those_ kind... playing with their food before they devoured it.

The gun was still directed at her, but the albino seemed more at ease with it now.

A smile tugged at her lips.

If he wanted her dead, she would deprive him of any fun. They loved the struggle... they enjoyed the writhing, pathetic, helpless women. Rebecca would take that away from him. Her lack of resistance would throw him off. He would get mad. And that way, also much easier to manipulate.

At least, so she thought.

Rebecca fell to her knees, hands placed gently in her lap, her blank face directed up at him.

"Well. It's now or never." she said, attempting to sound cheery.

The albino captor looked at her with an equally blank expression, lowering the gun just a bit.

"Bloody or rare?" she mocked.

For a moment he did nothing, but then grimaced and lunged forward, grabbing her by the scalp.

Rebecca involuntarily let out a cry and grabbed at her hair to lessen the pain as the man dragged her over to the room she had previously been locked up in. Her wrist began throbbing horribly, and she shrieked.

"_WHAT ARE YOU DOING? WHAT DO YOU WANT! TALK TO ME, GODDAMMIT!"_

And she felt his palm collide with her face, ceasing her shouting. Before the burning feeling on her cheek had even subsided, her captor grabbed her jaw.

Rebecca writhed as he held her tight, forcing her to come face to face with him.

She found herself looking into his blue eyes. Eyes that were so familiar, they sent the vestige of an unpleasant memory through her mind, causing her to shudder.

His teeth were bared, and Rebecca couldn't help but think how alien he looked from up close.

The voice emanating from between his lips was soft, yet menacing.

"_Don't..." _he whispered, "_you EVER..."_

His grip tightened, and Rebecca whined and tried to pull away.

"_Don't you EVER speak the Lord's name. EVER._" he finally uttered, his face red.

His spit hit Rebecca's face, and she finally managed to jerk away in disgust, blinking back her tears.

The man grabbed her broken wrist, and she couldn't help but screech and then truly began crying. He shoved her into the room and kicked her to the floor, all while she was desperately using her last defensive maneuvers by hitting and scratching at any part of him she could reach.

A kick to her torso rendered her breathless and left her convulsing in even more pain.

He stood by the door gazing at her, and absentmindedly wiped the blood from his face.

"You are not deserving of your title... whore." he murmured angrily, and strode out of the room.

It was only when the clicking of the lock had reached Rebecca's ears that she tried to stop crying.

**~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~**

**1.) Ah, another chapter done. Even if it _did _take me much longer than usual. But as expected, schoolwork did take away much of my time, among other things.**

**2.) At least I made it longer than others. And I intend on doing so for all my future chapters.**

**3.) Any questions? Confusion yet?**

**4.) Should I use the guilt method you get you guys to review? I review EVERY story I read, no matter how long or short, crappy or amazing. It's my oath. :) Maybe... *coughs* you could be so kind as to review mine? No pressure. Only the fate of my entire life lies in your hands.**

**5.) Mary Sure rating?**

**6.) Do the characters seem in sync? Am I portraying Silas in a decent/acceptable fashion?**

**7.) Thanks to: 13, GivenCircumstances, Sherrie H., and marblememo! :D**

**MISIROU**


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